Lana woke with a dull pulse in her ears. It wasn't sound, not exactly. It was like pressure. A quiet, steady thrum beneath her skin that didn't stop, even in sleep. She sat up slowly, the thin blanket slipping from her shoulders. Kieran lay beside her, his arm draped loosely over her waist. He looked peaceful—eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breath slow and even. She stared at him for a moment, letting herself believe that maybe they could have this. Maybe this was what normal felt like. But that thrum wouldn't stop. It had grown louder overnight.
She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and dressed quietly. Her boots made soft taps on the metal floor as she walked through the bunker's dim hallway. The air smelled of old filters and machine oil. She passed the comms bay and paused when she saw Jason still awake, hunched over a console, eyes flicking across scrolling data.
"You haven't slept," she said.
Jason didn't look up. "Didn't want to."
She stepped closer. "What is it?"
He tapped the screen. Seven pulsing red dots blinked back at her. "Queen fragments. Each one tied to your blood signal. Evelyn left a warning. If the Queen's signal ever reactivated, these fragments would wake up. Some might try to follow you. Some might try to fight you."
Lana studied the map. "And if I go to them?"
Jason finally looked at her. "You might unite them. Or they might consume you."
His voice was low, heavy with something more than concern. It was fear. Not of her—but for her. She remembered the way he'd looked at her back in Noctis, like she was his mission, his responsibility. Now his eyes were full of doubt. Of distance.
"I didn't ask for this," she said.
"But you didn't turn away from it either," Jason replied.
She couldn't argue with that.
Further inside the base, Nyx was at the central console, her fingers gliding across holographic screens with ease. Her face was calm, focused, almost emotionless. Blood maps shimmered above her like constellations.
Nyx looked up. "The Queen didn't want a successor. She wanted to be replaced. But her mind fractured. These fragments you're seeing—each one has its own agenda now. You're not the heir. You're the test."
Lana stepped into the room. "I thought Veliora was guiding me."
"She was," Nyx said. "But Veliora's mind is unraveling. Seven parts pulling in seven directions. If you follow them, you'll have to choose which ones to absorb and which to destroy."
Lana turned toward the reinforced window and stared at her reflection. The face staring back at her looked like hers—but sharper. Harder. And colder.
She thought of Kieran—his quiet strength, the way he held her last night like she was something worth holding onto. She thought of Jason—loyal, steady, and now uncertain. If she went after these fragments, if she became something more… would they still see her as Lana?
The thought twisted in her chest.
Before she could say anything, the satellite interface chimed. Nyx stepped over, fingers flying across controls.
"Incoming message," she said. "Not from the Queen. This is someone else."
Jason joined her at the console. "Put it through."
A woman's voice filled the room. Cold. Confident.
"To the Crownless One. Your rise was expected. Your defiance anticipated. Succession is not chosen. It is earned. You are summoned. Eastern Divide. Three days. Do not bring your dead weight."
The message ended.
"Who the hell was that?" Jason asked.
Nyx narrowed her eyes. "The Remnant. Queen loyalists. They want the crown restored. And they don't think you deserve it."
Lana clenched her fists. "Then they can try and stop me."
The console beeped again. New data. More signals.
TARGET 03: LYSANDER — STATUS: AWAKE
TARGET 05: RYOKO — STATUS: IN MOTION
Jason stepped back. "They're already moving. They're not just rivals—they're old versions of the Queen's self, each one with its own twisted idea of what the crown should mean."
Lana's chest tightened. Her name was out there now. Every faction knew it. Some would want her dead. Others would want to use her.
"I need air," she whispered.
Kieran was waiting near the door. This time, when he spoke, his voice was steady, but edged with fire.
"You don't have to carry all of this alone," he said. "You're stronger than you were, but you're not untouchable. I've fought monsters born from nightmares, Lana. I've been one. And I can tell you this—none of them are worse than a woman trying to become something she's not."
Lana turned, eyebrows lifting slightly. "So you think I'm changing too much?"
Kieran stepped in close, his eyes locking with hers. "I think you're finally becoming what you were meant to be. But don't forget who you are to us. To me. If you burn too hot chasing this crown, you'll scorch the people walking beside you."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she nodded. "Come with me?"
He smiled, but it was sharp around the edges. "Try and stop me."
They stepped into the cold night together, stars overhead blinking like quiet warnings. The wind cut hard across the plain, but Lana barely noticed. Her thoughts were too loud.
"If I change too much," she said softly, "I might lose you."
Kieran didn't flinch. He reached up and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
"Then I'll change with you," he said. "But I won't vanish. I'm not Jason. I'm not Nyx. I don't follow signals or orders. I choose you. Every time."
She leaned into him, not for a kiss—but for steadiness. Warmth. The kind she hadn't realized she needed until it was offered so fiercely.
Back inside, the monitor pulsed again.
The world had crowned her. She hadn't accepted it. But she hadn't refused it either.
And now the game had begun.